In the Spotlight (one-shot)
by melancholy starlight
Summary: I invented a month-long one-word-prompt writing event like Inktober but for writing. This oneshot is what i wrote for the prompt, "Stage". I've been in a major writing slump for months, so it isn't my most detailed or meaningful work. Mettaton loves what he does, but when he goes overboard, someone else must step in for him.


**I'm not dead! However my motivation for writing has been. This very short one-shot is from** ** _November_** **and I have had no ideas for new stories for any fandom since. I figured I'd share this here, because it exists, but it is short and lacks detail because... well, I don't have a good reason.**

 **Also I changed my username. I used to be Pikminsanity,** **but you all have probably forgotten who that is if you ever even knew** **.**

 **[Note: in this timeframe Napstablook has a corporeal body essentially a turquoise-colored mirror image to Mettaton EX. If I incorporate this into my personal Post-Pacifist Headcanon Universe, I may create a backstory on how that came to be. But that isn't relevant here.]**

Since reaching the surface, one of the things Mettaton was most grateful for (aside from, of course, his people's freedom) was that he could now perform on a bigger, grander stage. The auditorium was very professional and ornate. He couldn't have asked for anything better.

Knowing he could create much greater performances, he began to design and take on huge, ambitious projects, sometimes overworking himself to the point that he nearly ran out of power, and Alphys frequently worried about him and did everything she could to prevent him from going overboard. But he knew that, no matter how long it took, once it was finished, it would all be worth it.

Mettaton spent weeks on that stage, choreographing and rehearsing and testing. He often worked alongside Napstablook, who helped him especially with music and sound, as well as other offstage productions, but was also there to watch Mettaton rehearse. Mettaton poured his soul into this project–he just needed it to be perfect. If anything went wrong, he swore to god…

After many months of passionately meticulous planning and editing and rehearsing, the final dress rehearsal came along. Everything had been finalized, and the tickets were sold out. All of the monsters were eager to see their favorite star's newest masterpiece.

Mettaton could barely pull himself out of bed.

"Y-you must have overworked yourself t-too hard this time," Alphys told him. "Your energy levels are so low! I told you to take a b-break, didn't I? You can't keep doing this to yourself… I'm g-going to take care of you today."

"What am I going to do now? Tonight is opening night! So many audience members are counting on me! I can't let them down like this! What do I do?" Mettaton begged.

"Th-there isn't much you can do, at least not r-right now. You need to rest," Alphys told him. "Isn't there anyone who can f-fill in for you?"

"I… didn't expect I'd need someone to…" he admitted.

"And you're sure there's no way you could delay it for a few more days until you're better?"

"Not at this point." He sighed. "I can't believe this. I've put in all this work, I wanted this to be perfect, I wanted it to be special… and it was all for nothing. I can't be there, and there's no one even there to at least take my place… Wait. Hand me my phone."

"Huh?" Alphys was confused, but complied.

Mettaton put the phone to his ear. "Blooky, are you there?"

On the other end, a soft voice responded, "What is it, Mettaton…?"

"I can't make it to the show tonight. I need you to fill in for me."

"What? Me? But I could never do as well as you always do…"

"That's okay. You know that script inside and out. You helped me write those songs, you've heard them a thousand times. I've heard your voice in those demos. You can do this. Please, Blooky… can you do this for me?"

On the other end, Napstablook's lachrymose voice sighed. "…I really don't feel like it should be me…"

"Think about it, Blooky. It's not just my story, it's yours too. You said you loved how easily you could relate to it, didn't you?"

"You're right… maybe I can do this… I don't want to let you down, Mettaton. I'll do it."

"Oh, Blooky, you're a lifesaver! Thank you so much, darling! I promise, it's just for tonight."

Napstablook was hesitant to step onstage. They weren't the person all those audience member were hoping for. But they shrugged off the thought as best they could, and let themself pretend this was just a rehearsal. Mettaton did have a point that they knew the whole thing by heart. I've got this, they told themself. At the end of the day, Mettaton's still rooting for me through the video camera in the back. Focus on that. Yeah. Okay. I can do this.

And they did it.

When they returned home, Mettaton was eagerly waiting for them. Napstablook could tell he was feeling much better. "Oh, Blooky, you did wonderfully!" he cried. "Your voice in the final song was so beautiful, darling. I'm so glad the audience got to hear it too."

Napstablook smiled. "Thank you… How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. I'll be perfectly fine by tomorrow night. How are you feeling? I know performing in front of an audience isn't exactly in your comfort zone…"

"It was a lot better than I expected… I just reminded myself that no matter what, you'd still be cheering for me. That helped… and then it turned out, a lot of other people were, too…"

"That's great to hear, darling! Would you…. Would you do it again?"

"Again? … I could… I guess… but why?"

"I realized during your performance… that the story I based it off of wasn't just about me. You were there, too. You lived through it alongside me. And the voice and character I gave to the main role… fits you better than it would fit me. But if you don't want to, I respect that. I know you're not the type to be performing in front of hundreds for a week straight…"

"Mettaton… thank you. I'd be happy to do it."


End file.
